


Ballad of the Rogue Translator

by HigharollaKockamamie



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigharollaKockamamie/pseuds/HigharollaKockamamie
Summary: A backstory for the true hero.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Ballad of the Rogue Translator

Now listen here, and give a thought  
To folks who tie linguistic knots  
To haul your shows across that old equator  
The ones who parse, who muse, who curse  
Who run lines forwards and reverse  
In other words: the humble, shy translator. 

The job’ll make your poor guts grumble  
If the hours don’t get you, a trick gerund’ll  
But some folks it’s the only job they’ll do  
Cause the heart of it's in what they say  
The fatal word of the fatal day  
Before the angel’s glorped up into goo

Once somewhere there was a pro  
Who worked all sorts of TV show  
Passing _Friends_ from one tongue to another  
She did your news and your _The View_ s  
She handled _Blood_ s both _Blue_ and _True_ s  
Plus one that starred a hunter and his brother

Then one day, twixt _Seinfeld_ and _Frazier_  
There came a script bound to enrage her  
A maddening work where wit and wordplay seethed  
The toothiest thing she’d ever spied on  
Rife with idioms it relied on  
As the deadline loomed above her neck and breathed

Double meaning! Rhyming! Jest!  
One reference playing off the rest!  
Intentions twisted far beyond repair  
Technobabble aimed to nag you!  
A joke that hinged on Spirow Agnew!  
By page thirteen, her head sank in despair.

And then, she rolled her sleeves up steady  
Deep breath in, thesaurus ready  
And dove right in with wild determination  
She mined equivalent local tensions  
Crammed square nouns into round declensions  
Her gloom transforming into fierce creation.

She fought out a way to handle each  
(Admittedly, some were quite a reach)  
And cleaned up every sticking point but one  
Then under her breath she whispered “Nuts!”  
She wracked her brains and sacked her guts  
And found a way to translate - yes - a pun.

She sent it in and heaved a sigh  
Dealt with an easy CSI  
Basking in the glow of what she’d done  
Then, her boss’s feedback? “It’s all right”  
But what really set her ire alight  
Was that one poor unappreciated pun. 

She cried, “Philistine! Blind moon-eye calf!”  
I’ll split your infinitives in half!  
I’ll drop all your participles down ravines!”  
But after a good night’s slumb’ring respite  
She grew clear-eyed and less desperate  
And found a way to wreak revenge unseen. 

The years, she let them come and go  
Until on one day, on one show  
In which a fandom’s hopes were deep invested  
From a tense election, blessed reprieve  
And an unknown person could achieve  
Max chaos, minimum of ‘get arrested.'

Language, it’s a fickle thing  
Trained behind the scenes to sing  
By those whose names will never grace marquee  
So when the hour of night gets lateful  
Cast up your eyes and say “I’m grateful”  
And hear the whisper back, “ _Y yo a ti_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know anything about Supernatural; I just thought the words "rogue translator" were really funny.


End file.
